


"S-S-Si?"

by Espereth



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: asscreedkinkmeme, F/M, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:50:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Espereth/pseuds/Espereth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern Alternate Universe. Ezio takes an important phone call while two of his smart-assed Assassin recruits get up to mischief. Porn ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"S-S-Si?"

Ezio finished soaping himself and let the hot water sluice away the suds. Today was an important day. For Italia; for the world. He wasn't nervous. Really, he wasn't - although, of all his marks, he had never killed someone so prominent. 

Or so corrupt. The papers and media commentators didn't talk about even a tenth of what the man had actually done. Of course, no-one would believe them if they did - the war between Templars and Assassins was fought out in secret. Still, it was hard to find bribery and tax fraud very shocking when he thought of the Apple of Eden in this Templar's hands.

He heard his phone buzz - ten minutes earlier than planned. Disappointed, he shut the water off, then stepped out of the shower and wrapped a plush white towel around his waist. Water pooled around his feet onto cool silver marble.

He stepped into his bedroom with water still running off him, matting the hair on his chest and belly. Then he stopped short. Two of his apprentices were lounging on his bed, draped over each other, sleek and dangerous as leopards. Ciro - slim and tall, dark eyes, sculpted facial hair; and Bianca - blonde and lithe, with small, beautiful breasts and wicked eyes. Ezio had watched Bianca stretch after training. She was extremely flexible.

Ciro raised his eyebrows and smirked. Bianca blew him a kiss. 

"What are you two doing in here?" he muttered, shaking out yesterday's jeans to find his phone. "Shouldn't you be training?"

"We're all trained out, Ezio," said Ciro. His hand circled between Bianca's shoulder blades. Ezio's phone buzzed insistently, somewhere under soft designer denim.

"Exhausted," said Bianca, flexing her shoulders, easing into Ciro's touch like a stroked cat.

"So tired." 

"We wanted to try your bed, Ezio. It's so much bigger than the beds in the apprentice dorms."

"And we want to play with _that_." Ciro indicated his enormous, glossy, plasma television screen. 

Ezio was rather proud of it. It fit the slick, modern yet palatial atmosphere of his apartments at the Assassin living quarters. 

"Can we watch a porno on it, Ezio?" 

"Please?"

"We'll let you stay, Ezio."

Ezio found his phone and held it to his ear with his shoulder. He waved a hand dismissively at his smart-assed apprentices, indicating the door, but neither of them moved. At some point, he would have to do _something_ about their discipline. How long had they been calling him by his first name?

"Machiavelli," he said into the phone, and the call connected.

Ezio was always wary, with conversations like these. Of course, the call was secure, using the Assassins' own satellite, equipment and cryptography - Ezio had complete faith in Leonardo. But there was always the uneasy feeling that no system was impenetrable, no code unbreakable. Even those designed by the greatest engineer, cryptographer and inventor in the world.

"Ezio," said Niccolò Machiavelli, his voice as curt as ever. "It is as you said."

Ciro had loosened the zip at the back of Bianca's snug charcoal dress, to gain better access to her slim shoulders. Bianca lifted her long, white-blonde hair away from her neck, flipping it over her shoulder to hang down between her breasts. 

"You found the girl?" Ezio said. "Will she help us get access?"

He looked back at the bed to see Bianca ease her shoulders out of her dress, revealing the straps of her black lace bra. Ezio cursed and looked instead out of the window. He was half-hard, his cock pushing the towel out in front of him. 

"Don't you read the papers, Auditore? The _Polizia_ found the girl overnight. She was hanging by her neck from her bedroom window."

" _Merda_!"

"So, we have no-one. I am calling it off. We must wait for another opportunity."

"No. We proceed. Do you know how old that girl was, Machiavelli? The things that were done to her?"

"Of course I do; but that has little bearing on our present circumstances."

Out of nowhere, Ezio's towel fell away from his waist, and he whirled to see Bianca twirling it. Realising he was completely naked, he turned his back. Bianca flicked his ass with a loud, stinging _crack_.

Furious, he reached to grab it from her, but she dodged out of the way to rejoin Ciro on the bed. 

"It has every bearing on our circumstances, Machiavelli," Ezio said, fighting for calm. "If you can't think of a way to end this today, I will speak with La Volpe. He had some ideas."

Silence on the other end of the phone. He glanced at the bed, turning his head warily. Bianca and Ciro were kissing. Ciro had Bianca on her back, her long blonde hair fanned out on the crisp white sheets, her legs spread, charcoal dress riding up her thighs. He saw a hint of delicate lace panties and wondered, absurdly, if they matched the bra. He was now completely erect.

When this phone call was over, there would be hell to pay for these two. Leonardo da Vinci had been experimenting with a wrist-mounted dart gun made entirely of plastic - perhaps as punishment Ezio would make them carry the device through airport security.

"I may know a way," Machiavelli said. "Listen." He began to explain his idea.

Ezio planned to split his attention between Machiavelli and his apprentices. Ciro's hand slid beneath Bianca's dress. Out of the corner of his eye, Ezio saw him lift the elastic of her panties. There was the softest, gentlest squishing noise, and Bianca moaned and arched her back. Ciro's hand moved slowly.

"Oh, yes," murmured Ciro. "Like that, don't you?"

"Ciro," Bianca gasped. 

"Uhh," said Ezio into his phone.

"What sort of answer is that?" Machiavelli sounded irritated.

"Ah - what was the question?"

Ciro lifted Bianca's dress, took down her panties and lowered his head between her legs. She screamed and writhed. Ezio slammed his hand over the mouthpiece of his phone. 

"Ciro!" He hissed.

"What?" Ciro said innocently, wiping his mouth. "What did I do?" 

"This call could change the course of history. Keep it down."

Bianca cast Ezio a sideways look and pulled Ciro back down. The young man shrugged at Ezio, as if to say - "What can I do?" He bent his head again, holding Bianca's hips as he kissed and tongued her. He seemed to be more careful this time, coaxing her to soft moans and sighs instead of screams.

 _Probably went straight for the clit, that first time,_ Ezio thought. _Idiot._

Ezio was so hard it hurt. 

He lifted the phone again, prepared for another telling-off. 

"What the hell is going on there, Auditore?"

"Nothing. You caught me... in the middle of something."

Bianca's sighs became gasps; gasps became sobs of pleasure, then cries. That girl needed gagging. Ezio found a scarf Caterina had left in his apartments a week ago, some delicate gauzy thing. If she asked about it, he could simply pretend he hadn't seen it; it was unlikely to survive the morning. He balled up the strip of fabric and threw it at the back of Ciro's head.

Ciro feigned incomprehension, the scarf trailing through his fingers. "What am I to do with this, Ezio?"

Ezio mimed zipping his lips, and pointed at Bianca. "There must be another way to get an access card," he said to Machiavelli.

"If you are prepared to kill someone, there is always a way to get an access card." Ezio could almost see Machiavelli shrug as he spoke.

"No innocents," Ezio said.

"Not around here, anyway," said Ciro thoughtfully, while using the scarf to tie Bianca's wrists to a bedpost.

Machiavelli sighed. "Some day, Auditore, I will simply have my men do the preparatory work for one of your missions and tell you after they have finished. You'll see how simple it can be."

Ciro left Bianca tied down and writhing, and guided Ezio to the bed, a hand on his bare hip. Ezio, so aroused and distracted he could barely think, did not protest. 

"The day I let you do my work is the day I die," he told Machiavelli as he crouched between Bianca's spread thighs. With one hand, he pushed her dress up around her waist, kissed her flat belly and stroked along her inner thigh. Her pussy was slick with her own sweet juice, and from Ciro's tongue. "Sometimes I wonder if you are truly an Assassin. You really do believe the end justifies the means." 

Ezio covered the receiver again as he bent to trace his tongue along the wet lips of Bianca's pussy. She moaned, and her thighs pressed close on either side of his head. He adjusted the phone against his ear, dipped his head, savouring the taste of sex as he nuzzled and kissed her. Bianca writhed, gasping and mumbling pleas for Ezio to fuck her; but at least with her wrists bound, she could not pull his hair or make trouble in some other way. Ezio felt a shifting weight as Ciro knelt behind him on the bed. 

"I have never said this," Machiavelli said, sounding more irritated by the second.

Ciro spread Ezio's ass cheeks apart with his hands, kissed the hollow at the base of his spine. Ciro's tongue edged down, down, a fraction at a time, teasing.

"...The end takes its form _because_ of the means," said Machiavelli.

Then, suddenly, a wet tongue-tip flicked against Ezio's asshole and circled.

" _S-s-si_ ," Ezio stuttered. 

"It is shaped by the means, but neither the end nor the means can exist in idealised form. You -"

For once, Ezio was glad to let a conversation with Machiavelli devolve into a one-sided argument about philosophy. He set his phone on the bed just beside his ear, Machiavelli's voice faintly audible, still talking. He caressed Bianca with his tongue. Ciro's was excruciating. Wet and warm, circling, the trail of cool as moisture touched air. Firm hands holding him open; Ciro's stubble against his ass cheeks. Then his tongue tip squirmed right at the centre of his hole, and Ezio jolted and groaned. God, that boy was good. No wonder Bianca had screamed. 

" _This_ is an idealised form," murmured Ciro. He slapped Ezio's ass, squeezed it. 

Ezio was beyond rational thought, no longer caring what Machiavelli heard. He needed Ciro's cock in him, needed to sink his own cock deep into Bianca's tight pussy. He sat up and positioned himself over Bianca, nudged her slick entrance with the head of his cock. God, she was wet. 

Ciro bent Ezio over and knelt behind him. Ezio lowered himself, pushing into Bianca's hot slit just as Ciro shoved inside him. It hurt, at first, but then there was only the intensity of being penetrated and enveloped at the same time. All three of them were crying out. Ezio was dimly aware that the phone had gone silent, that Machiavelli was no longer talking, but the call was still connected.

He let Ciro guide his hips as the younger man fucked him. The boy was talented - gentle but firm, a sure touch, deep and slow. Then faster, as Bianca moved her hips to urge him. 

Bianca began to call Ezio's name and shudder. Ciro fucked him harder, holding his hips tightly. Then both of his apprentices climaxed together, Ciro wrapping his arms around Ezio, Bianca tightening her thighs around him as her body arched. Ezio followed, with the exquisite sensation of come spurting inside him and out of him at the same time.

Ezio collapsed with his head between Bianca's breasts, her dress rumpled and tangled under him. Ciro slumped beside him, arms around him.

Near his ear, Ezio heard Machiavelli clear his throat. He picked up the phone, and hung up on him.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Assassin's Creed KinkMeme: http://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/717.html?thread=3629005#cmt3629005


End file.
